Anger
by stripped to the bones
Summary: Crazy anger unleashed and unstopped. Somewhere during season 4. Smut, hurt, angst, violence. Mind the rating, people.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Where did this come from? I have no idea. I'll add a comment at the end. And it was proof read by me... so... sorry! Spelling and grammar will be bad.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but the mistakes.

---------------------

He looked at her, walking nonchalant to her desk. It still bothered him the two boyfriends thing. It remained a itch inside him. Why did she still doubted she was special? Why would she give herself to any idiot? As if she was a piece of meat, a hole and nothing more. As if she didn't deserve a candle lit dinner, sweet little words whispered into her ears. Because she didn't believe in the irrational, un-evolved notion of love, that was why. No, she let herself be fucked by stupid breath holding Mark and creepy David. Like a bitch. All the idiots had her, all but him. She let them touch her fair skin, watch her fluttering eyes as she came, dive themselves inside her, run their fingers through her silky hair, enjoy her beauty in every possible way.

And there she was signing the stupid report, leaning softly against her desk as if she was, as if she was normal. As if she wasn't a heartless whore. Why couldn't she be like the other squints in the lab? Why couldn't she believe in forever, like Hodgins? Or fall crazy in love like Daisy? Or even like Cam, who at least didn't sleep with every guy?Not Bones, no. Bones was like Pritchard. Sexually open, Ian-fucking Pritchard, who hadn't slept with him either. Bones would have eventually done "the rational thing" and fucked self-righteous, self-promoting, annoyingly British Ian if he hadn't been killed, he was sure.

It would have been better if she had gone with Sully, that would have shown some humanity. But no, the cold bitch stayed to fuck left and right. As if she was worthless.

And he wouldn't make a move because she was special? Because she was beautiful and soft and smart and so goddamn special? Because she liked daffodils? Why would he give it a second, third or millionth thought? Nonsense!

He got up resolved and strode towards her. She didn't even turn, she just remained there, bent, as if he didn't exist, as if he couldn't do anything to her. Almost offering herself like the whore she was. Brilliant, beautiful whore. So he did it. He pinned her to the desk, one hard thrust, pressing his erection to her ass. She gasped. She was going to stop him, she had to. But the bitch just moaned. Moaned as if she liked it, as if it was ok for him to treat her like that. He pressed again, harder this time, and she moaned again. He grabbed her hips and pressed even harder, shifting his hips, shamelessly letting her know he was going to fuck her too. And she did nothing, didn't even try to turn or stop him. He needed nothing more to pull her skirt up and push her torso to the desk. She gasped again, and he just couldn't avoid to furiously send his hand down her panties and give a rough stroke to her clit.

Why wasn't she stopping him? Why was she moaning in that low tone of hers? He stroked her from her entrance to her clit repeatedly, quickly, almost brutally. And the bitch was wet. The fucking whore wasn't turning, slapping him and telling him she was way too special for their first time to be like this. Why wasn't she at least acknowledging _he_ was special, that he wasn't like any other guy, that he ought to treat her differently?

Thus, he just did it. He unbuckled his belt, undid his zipper, took his cock, tugged her panties down and with a fast, hard and painful thrust he plunged in. So tight, so wet, such a maddening her cry. He gave crazed thrusts, raw friction, like an animal, like the fucking alpha male she was always mocking he was. He pulled her back up by her shoulders, she was melting in a sea of gasps, moans and soft cries. She was fighting to keep herself steady, grabbing the edge of the desk with both hands and he could have sworn he was meeting his thrusts half way. He squeezed her breasts, her full, hard nippled breasts that he had dreamt were ivory and soft, and a loud "Oh, God!" rose from her. The bitch came, a full force orgasm that made her every muscle spasm, her head fall back and a loud velvety moan echoed in the empty, he hoped, building. He came too, inside her shaky body, with a final beastly shove.

He backed and looked at her shivery figure. Why wasn't she kicking his testicles, breaking his nose or a limb? Why wasn't she unleashing her wrath for being fucked like that by him? Furious, he dove two fingers inside her, hear her sharp in-take of air, pulled them back out and had a taste of them both. Quickly, looking at his motionless, panting partner, he rearranged his clothing.

One final glance at her back, and he left angry at both of them.

Slowly she regained control of her body. Still a little shaky, she pulled her underwear back up, straightened her skirt and ran both hands through her hair. She turned and rested against the desk. Her mouth was slightly opened, but her eyes were almost totally round. Had that just happened? Had Booth just...? or had she been too embed on her work to notice him go and then she had fantasised? After blinking a few times, unable to chose between those options, she decided to leave. One step forward and she knew. She had had sex with Booth. Raw, hot, animalistic sex. With Booth. He hadn't talked, had he? No, neither had she. Unlike Booth, she had to take some more time before she could actually bring herself to move again.

The next day it was business as usual. He had decided to let it go. He had been an asshole, he had been a misogynistic bastard and he would have to live with it. But if she didn't mind, he wouldn't either. And apparently she didn't. Fine by him.

As always, it was a long day of work that went into night with them still at the Jeffersonian. He was sitting on her couch, right ankle on his left knee. And Bones and her goddamn detachment, he thought. It wasn't too late, he thought, she could still scream at him that he was an asshole, an idiot, a selfish rat. That no friend of hers could do that to her. He wished she would. It would have been redemption. Booth felt the rage grow inside him. She should be mad at him, she should hit him. But, in stead, she stared at her computer, jaw slightly to the side as she read the report. He shook his head. She acted as if she he didn't exist. Not as a friend, not as a threat. He left out a huff of air. And again, it was as if he wasn't even there. At the very least she should feel awkward alone with him at night. Alone in the building. Alone. _He_ felt awkward. He had been feeling guilty for thinking of her as a whore, but she had to be. She had to be if she could be fucked like that and then be all... Bones about it. And then again, just like last night, she walked to her desk, not looking at him, not noticing his presence at all. If he hadn't been a threat before, shouldn't he be after last night? Bones and her damn self confidence. And again, damn it, why was she acting as if she was a piece of meat? Why would she let him fuck her like that?

He was going to leave, that was it. He was going to stand up and leave. And he stood making more noise than needed. He huffed again, and yet no answer. Just like last night, there she was, her back to him, as if... He should be a threat! Those fucking translucent drawers she was opening and closing casted a mystic glow over her. Beautiful Bones, so pure in appearance and such a bitch allowing any bastard, including him, to have her, to do her. If that was the way things were, ok then.

With an anger he had in very few occasions experienced, he walked to her and pressed her to the transparent wall. A surprised "Ah!" escaped her. Surprised? She shouldn't be surprised, she should know what he was capable of. Even more carelessly than last night, he pulled her skirt up, her panties down and send a finger right inside her. Another "Ah" from her. She should have no air, her front against the wall, her back pressed by him. He undid his clothes, only the indispensables, and taking his hand off he slid his anger charged dick inside her. She looked like an X pinned to the wall, legs opened and arms stretched up, hands grabbing drawer-handles. This was painful and delicious. He groaned in spite of himself. He pushed harder, and she moaned. He looked, he dared to look, her eyes were shut and she was biting her lip. Fuck her and her damn pleasure. Hands on the bones of her hips he brought her closer, he plugged in deeper and the whore almost shouted. He tightened his grip on her hips and he had to be scratching her because otherwise his hands wouldn't be slipping. And at that, she fist-punched the wall. His right hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back, the silky hair tangled in his fingers. Between clenched teeth he groaned a "you like that, don't you?". Unable to speak, her blue eyes gazed at him. But he didn't want that. He turned her head to the other side. They came at the same time. And she was spent, resting against the wall, breathing broken breaths. He saw her hands slid down the drawers. Even madder than before, he pull himself together again and bolted out.

Brennan was flushed, she felt boneless. That had really happened. Again. What was going on? Why on Earth had he left? And why couldn't she move? She stood pressed to the wall. She looked down after a minute or so. Her panties were there, still wrapped around her right ankle. It hurt a little to move, to bend and put them back on. Yes, there were scratch marks on her body. And soon bruises would come, she was sure. She walked to her chair and sat. The computer was still on but she could not think. She just sat until she was ready to leave.

And the next night, fuck it, fuck her, fuck him, he thought. She was the same as always, the same cold, heartless whore that didn't care if he took her disrespectfully against a desk or a wall, to whom him or any other dick was the same. To her, no one was special, it was obvious. He was past furious, he was beyond angry. At himself, at her, at the messed up situation which she willingly ignored. Wasn't she a genius? Shouldn't she be telling him that there was a flaw in his logic if he talked about love and then fucked her like that? Shouldn't she be asking him why he said she was special and then treated her like a fucking bitch? But no, there she was, tucking one strand of hair behind her ear before returning her full attention to the photos in her hand. The slut, having such an innocent demeanor. This time she was going to see him coming. With a violence that shocked him, he grabbed her wrist and lifted her from her chair. She looked up at him and for the first time he had no idea what the hell she was thinking. It was her perfect opportunity to fucking stop him, he thought. However, she didn't. She let him push her against the desk again, face down again. In a powered combination of the two previous night, he pulled her panties so hard that they tore. He stroked her clit violently, he thrusted mercilessly, he fucked her like the bitch she was and this time she was definitely fucking enjoying it. And she panted, moaned trying to lift herself, but he wouldn't let her. He wouldn't let the bitch look at him while he was being this monster. She thrashed the desk, but offered no resistance to him. He wanted her to moan a plea for him to stop, or at least to let her look at him, he wished she would ask him to kiss her. But she didn't. What she did was grab his hips and add to the pressure. From the collar of her shirt, he pulled her up. One hand brutally squeezed her breasts, pressing her back to his chest, the other hand rubbed her swollen clit harder than ever before while he pushed so beastly inside her that her feet almost lift from the floor. Seeing her face now, he hated her. He hated that she loved this, that she loved him doing this to her. She should love him being gentle, kissing her softly, not this perverted version of himself that he loathed. And yet she held a tight grip on his hips and small cries grew on her throat. Her throat, that should have been made to receive feather light kisses. He scratched her again, his hand inside her shirt now. He wanted to mark her, to leave a scarlet A on her chest because she could as easily be an adulteress. Making sure she came shortly before him, once she fell powerless on the top of the desk, he made himself come aimming at her ass. She felt the liquid on her right buttock, but she could not move, she could do nothing other than trying to catch her breath. She felt his hand there, where his semen had splashed and then she felt his finger in her mouth, the taste of him in her mouth. She licked it and he hated it. He smeared the rest of his sperm on her ass and cleaned his dick with her skirt. He wanted her to be marked by his smell. Her mouth, her ass, her core, her clothes, he wanted all of her marked, smelling of sex so everyone knew. And he hated himself for wanting that so badly.

This ravishing, crazy, violent rant continued for 10 straight days. For the first time in her life, she didn't know what to think. And Booth just loathed himself. But it was more powerful than him, he could not stop. He couldn't even bring himself to leave earlier, when there was other people around, when it was still safe to be around her. And tonight was no different. He walked to her, mad like hell, hot like hell and pushed her against the closed door. He saw the steam from her words on the glass and only then he could comprehend her. "I can't"

He backed off as if thrown out of his axis. Was it finally happening? "What?" it was almost a whisper.

Then she turned and looked down. "I can't" She crossed her arms on her chest.

He was staring at her. God! She had realized that she should not be fucked but made love to. That they were too special for this sinful shit.

But she was Bones, so she added in a low tone "My gynecologist says that I have to restrain from rough sex for a while..."

Booth almost died then and there "What?" in an even lower voice.

Her gynecologist had actually asked if she had an abusive boyfriend, if she needed legal aid. After she assured him she didn't, that everything was consensual, the doctor had told her to stop that for a while. And to alternate rough with more gentle sexual activities in the future. And that her cystitis would go away if she gave it time. But she didn't go into that much detail "The doctor says that I need to... that I can't... well, that my vagina needs to heal before I re-engage in this kind sexual activities."

Booth's heart shattered. He was despicable, a worthless piece of shit. He should burn in hell "I hurt you? Did I do that to you?" he knew the answer to that. He had done it. He had even intentionally scratched her perfect skin.

His face was disfigured, she noticed. "Well..." if she said yes, he would feel guilty, so she tightened her lips before saying "I never stopped you"

"Oh, Bones" He had taken that living piece of heaven that was Bones and transformed her into a battered person. He stepped forward and held her, guilt drowning him.

That shocked her. She stood there, uncomfortable with this display. "I'm fine, Booth, it's fine" And it was really fine. "It's not a big deal, Booth"

He would not take that "I am sorry, I am so sorry" He repeated into her ear.

"It's not your fault" Brennan reassured him wishing that he would let go of her.

Of course it was. His jealousy and his anger had gotten hold of him and he had transformed into an abusive violent sonovabitch. He kissed her temple and that set her off.

She pushed him away delicately "Booth, it's not your fault, it's ok, it happens"

It happens? It shouldn't happen to her. Certainly not because of him. "I am so sorry, Bones" he said trying ot cup her face, but she flinched. It was an instant, just an instant, before she relaxed and accepted his gesture.

"I'm sorry" He repeated staring into her eyes.

Those dark, brown, deep eyes looking at her like that, so full of something. Something that got her stomach to flinch and she couldn't suppress the smile that crept on her face, but she downplayed it turning her head a little to the left. She looked at him again, the smile still there "It's really not your fault"

He wanted to stab himself right in the middle of the chest. There she was, the rose skin of her cheeks barely touching his hand, her body full of scars and she was smiling at him, telling him that it wasn't his fault.

"Yes, Bones, it is" he said, his hands now on her shoulders, where they often were when he explained human interaction to her. "I shouldn't have done... I should have been careful, I should have... I should have been gentle with you"

The pain leaked from his face and it was killing her "Booth, you did nothing wrong" and after a short pause she added "I could have said something"

And there laid the heart of the matter. She could have stopped him the first time. Or any of the times that followed. And she could have told him to be more delicate. But he had been too upset, to blind, to focused on calling her a whore to diminish his guilt and had paid no attention to her. "Why didn't you?"

She had her eyes fixed on his. The smile was gone and now her face was the perfect poster of seriousness. She would not say why. She would not say that she liked it, even when he had to know at this point. Far more important, she wouldn't say why she liked it.

Stupidly late, it hit him. If she had gone to the doctor the pain had to be extreme, particularly during their last encounters. And she had sucked it up, she had let him continue to hurt her. Why on Earth had she let him hurt her over and over?

Even though she sucked at non verbal communication with pretty much everyone, she could see it in his eyes. She didn't look away, but she didn't speak either.

"Why, Bones, why did you let me hurt you?"

She blinked, an inner debate going on in her head. She could leave and come back tomorrow as if none of this had happened, not the sex nor the talk. She could remain silent until he gave up and see what happened next. Or she could just tell the truth. The fact that he had changed the question form _why didn't you_ to _why did you let me hurt you_ leaned the debate towards truth. She didn't want him to think that she wanted him to hurt her. She filled her lungs with fresh air and let it out "Because you would have stopped it all together" She stared at him almost defiantly. She wanted to see him try and deny it.

It was his turn to look away. Of course she would think that. It was, after all, what he wanted. For her to stop him. Any word from her would have made him stop. Anything that said she wasn't a masochist bitch would have made him go away and whip himself until the end of time. Which was something he was still considering. All he could add as "I am sorry"

That annoyed her and she lost it "Would you stop saying you're sorry? It is not your fault, none of this is your fault, I'm not some inexperienced girl that can't distinguish pain from pleasure, you didn't rape me, I could have pushed you away if I wanted"

Now that was revealing. That was a statement that he could process. It was explicit enough for him to fully understand. He thought he had it, and maybe he did. Just as fast as she had spoke, he asked "Why didn't you want to push me away?"

"Because you would have stopped" She replied like a suspect who was no longer thinking clearly and just spit the facts and she continued "You would have thought I was" she shook her head looking for the word "rejecting you, and you would have apologized and said something stupid like we shouldn't have sex because we're partners, that I shouldn't allow you to have sex with me because I'm special and you would have decided it was all a mistake and that you took it back and things would have been weird between us"

And his fury grew again. Fucking whore! She had let it all happen because it was easier than things getting a little bit weird between them? "Things would have been weird? That's your reason?" He was almost shouting.

He was definitely more stupid than she had calculated "No, Booth!" She couldn't believe he wasn't getting it and, in top of it, he had the nerve to shout at her. Brennan was mad, what the hell did he think she was? She was in a frenzy of words "My reason was that I wanted to have sex with you, I didn't want you to stop and I liked it, ok? I enjoyed it" Damn, it wasn't just science, she had to spell everything out for him.

"Oh, so you enjoyed being hurt to the point of needing to go to the doctor?" He was furious with her. He didn't even know why anymore.

She could have punched him. She should, for being so stupid. For only listening to the things that helped him build his point in stead of taking every piece of evidence and drawing conclusions from them all. "I enjoyed sex with you! I didn't mind the pain! I would have said to slow down if you weren't so narrow minded to think that, that..." She ran out of words.

And then he got it "That gentle sex was love making?"

"Yes" Her answer, tiered or defeated or something. She was furious and exhausted. "And you would have stopped" She added slower. She put her hands on her hips and looked down shaking her head. She could not be more clear.

"Why would I have stopped?" He had to admit that he would have, but he wanted to know why she was so sure.

She didn't want to talk anymore. But he was unable to understand the most basic things, so she had to explain "Because you wouldn't make love with me... because I don't believe in it, because you only make love with people you love" She stated it as a fact. And it was fine. A fact is a fact. It's pointless to be angry at a fact.

Booth was speechless, stunned. He stood there, frozen. And after a long silence she started to walk. He saw her grab her bag and her jacket and pass by him towards the door. Again, he had to ask, he needed to know why she thought that "Why don't I love you?"

She came to a sudden halt, closed her eyes and lowered her head. She didn't do whys, she did whos, hows or whats, not whys. Enough with this, she thought "See you tomorrow"

She had adjusted to the idea during the ride home. It was... frustrating, but she could adapt. It had been good, it had been very good and she was going to miss it, but she could adapt. She tossed the mail on the counter not looking at it, left her bag and keys next to it and headed to her room. Stupid Booth, unable to separate tenderness from love. In the bathroom, she washed her hands, took off her underwear, rolled her skirt up and cleaned herself. Doctor had said she had to keep herself clean. And even when she wasn't squeamish and she had never been shy about sexual organs, hers or others, she didn't look. She had seen it, she didn't need to see again, she knew what it looked like.

Skirt down again, she went to the living room, started her computer and walked to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and smelled the contents of a tai take out carton. Still edible. She put the food in a bowl and then in the microwave. Water, because she was going to work. Things were good, things were cool, things were like they should be. Calm and normal, and she was going to work. Except, of course, for the knock on the door. She shook her head.

Within minutes from her departure, he followed. The same avenues and streets she had taken, because she always took the same way. He parked in front of her building and looked up. He went up stairs and knocked, realizing then that the had no idea of what he was going to say. The door opened and he stood stunned like a dear on the road. She tilted her head and half smiled. Her resolution to say _go home_ evaporated. "Come on in"

He walked in and heard her walk away and then back to him. Without asking, she put a bottle of beer in his hand. She should have asked what he was doing there, but she didn't. It was one of those times when he needed a few minutes to open up and talk to her.

The microwave announced the food was heated, but no one was paying attention to it. With heavy steps he moved to the couch and sat letting out a deep sigh. One could see the ideas ordering in his brain. She sat next to him ans sipped the beer, water and work would have to wait. So did she.

Words weren't coming easy because he had been a bastard. But he had to man up and admit it "Listen, Bones, what I did to you was wrong" First flag went up on her brain, but she let him continue "I... I'm sorry I hurt you and I'm sorry I meant it" second flag on her brain "You're... I shouldn't have used you... and I am not sure I did" He hadn't, it wasn't about his oun pleasure as it was about her, about his jealousy for her "I... I... I wanted..." he shook his head

She blinked, pondered if she should talk now, but she decided to encourage him to go on "You wanted... what?"

He looked at her by the corner of his eyes. Her blue eyes staring back at him, her spine straight and her serious face were demanding him to speak. "I wanted what every other idiot had" Flag number three.

What he really really had wanted was her to acknowledged that she was special, that he was too and that they were meant to make love forever and always. "And I wanted you to be mad at me for trying to get it"

She took a sip, pursed her lips, frowned and straightened things out. "So" she made a pause "You believe that... _you_ did something _to me_. That you willingly, out of the evil of your heart, hurt me" Squints can have a sense of humor in situations such as this "That you wanted _to have_ me, because any idiot can have me and that I should have been mad because of that" She nodded and he looked at her in shame. "I should be mad at you" She said resolved. And then she added "I am" She was seriously mad but still calmed.

"You are?" Stupid question but it gave him the chance to apologize.

"Of course I am, Booth. Your whole scenarios is based on the fact that I passively let you do whatever you think you did to me and that I let any one else do the same"

"Well, you did..."

She had explained this to him already. "I didn't. I don't _let_ people have sex with me. I have sex with the people I choose. I decide, and my decision was not to stop you. And if any other idiot would have... approached me the way you did I would have decided differently. It upsets me that you think of me as some kind of brainless woman incapable of choosing the course of her own sexual life"

He looked at her squinting almost idiotically. She was sure he was focusing in the wrong parts of her speech as he had before.

"So... you wanted me to, you know..." He said, moving his head to the sides as he often did when he wasn't comfortable about what needed to be said.

"I've already told you that. You were too busy being mad at me" She replied in a low voice, looking at a spot on the floor right in front of him. However, it wasn't an ashamed tone.

Booth made a quiet "Ha" sound and looked away. It was freakish that they were discussing this in they usual dynamic. "And you wouldn't let any...."

"No. I think I've shown that in the past few moths. It's not like I didn't have offers, you know" she was still using her light demeanour, the kind she used when she was trying to make him uncomfortable about sex "As I am sure you had" she made a downwards pursed lips grin and raised her eyebrows, her eyes still on the floor "though I think you didn't take the same course of action you took with me"

"No, I certainly did not" He replied almost instantly. He returned to his line of thought then "And you didn't particularly enjoyed the... hurtful part of it?"

"No, not particularly..."

He tilted his head closer to her and in the confidential tone of his he said "I am sorry I hurt you"

"I know"

"I would have been gentler if you'd asked me"

She shook her head "You woudn't"

He had to think about that. He had admitted he woudn't, that he would have stopped, but hadn't it been his first intention for her to tell him that she was special and that he should treat her accordingly? "No, I would"

"No, you wouldn't" again, that factual tone on her voice.

"I would, ok, I would. If I say I would, I would"

A lopsided smile took over her face, it was so Booth to say that so she wouldn't feel rejected "Ok, you would"

There was a long silence during which they just focused on their drinks, on their private thoughts. Brennan was thinking that maybe she was wrong and he was right. Maybe she should have said to slow down, to let her turn around, maybe she should have told him to kiss her. She liked kissing during sex. Maybe she should have demanded him to let her hold him, she would have liked to see his face and kiss his neck. Well, that was all gone now. She could adapt. She had to anyway.

Booth, on the other hand, now that there was silence, could try to feel a little better. But it didn't work, regardless of how many times she said it wasn't his fault, he would remain responsible for hurting her. For hurting her privates of all things. He needed to be punished.

"You're going to be fine, right? The doctor said you would be fine?" He broke the silence.

"Hum, yes. The swelling should go away in a couple of days and the tearing should be completely healed within a week" she said in a clinical manner.

"The tearing? I tore you?" He wanted to kill himself.

"It's not that uncommon, specially after consecutive sexual encounters such like ours"

Booth rubbed her face "Oh, Bones"

"What? It really isn't that uncommon" she repeated.

He sighed, he really wished she would praise herself a little more. "Did I do something else?"

She used a small pause to consider the answer. He would feel guilty, but he wanted the truth "There's the scratches and the bruises"

He should be whipping himself. He should... "Let me see"

"What?" Then she understood "No!"

"Come on Bones" He was pleading.

If this was going to allow him to mitigate his guilt, if this was going to help them get pass it, then she would let him. She blinked slowly and pulled the collar of her shirt down. And there were the scratches, some were now thin scars, others were still red, raw on the upper part of her breasts. Her breasts, that were ivory as he had imagined. She stood up then, looking at him, his face contorted as he stared at the marks. So she pulled up the bottom of her shirt and greenish and purple bruises were revealed on the sides of her ribs, and more marks across her stomach were found. Even worst, some of the scratches disappeared under the waist of her skirt. She saw him as he pulled it down a little and more awful marks appeared. He looked up at her, but her eyes were blank. He pulled the skirt up, which shouldn't feel so weird after the many times he had done the same, but it must have been the delicacy of his movements now. He felt horror. He saw horror. He had cause horror. Bruises shaped like fingers under the bones of her hips, fingernails marks around her lean pubic hair. He placed a hand on her thigh and she rotated it. "God, Bones" he muttered as he saw the scratches on her inner thighs.

He made her sit as he keeled in front of her. She shouldn't let him do this, she thought. As if he was a gynecologist, he separated her legs and with a soft pull behind her knees she settled on the edge of the couch. He could see now. Carefully using his fingers he separated the swollen labia. She flinched a little. Redness, dark redness where a much softer color should be. Evident tearing marks. He wanted to kiss them all away, to lick her every wound until there were none. But they were is beastly doing. "God, Bones" He looked back up at her only to find her staring at him. But she said nothing, concentrated as she was trying to remember if any man had ever looked at her private parts as he was now. She could recall men looking as if it was candy in front of them and others that were almost disgusted, as if it was an obligation to perform oral sex. Booth, on the other hand, was delicate even with his eyes. He slightly brushed her injuries with the back of his fingers. Then he ran his hands through her inner thighs up to her knees. He delicately pushed them together. "I am so sorry"

"It's ok" She reassured him as she pushed her skirt down her thighs.

Booth remained knelt in front of her, as a penitent asking for forgiveness, which he was receiving but not accepting.

No, she had most definitively never seen that expression in any other man with whom she had had sex. Not even the ones- the few ones that told her they cared for her or loved her. Truth, none of them had ever caused that kind of trauma on her, none had that kind of guilt. But it wasn't only guilt, Booth's eyes carried something else. He was a puzzle, not a regular one, it seemed that new pieces appeared every time she thought she had figured it out. Brennan smiled at her stupid analogy, at him, at the situation.

"This is... crazy" It didn't sound like her, but there was not a better expression.

"No, Bones, it's terrible" Booth replied sitting in the coffee table in front of her.

She chuckled even when his face was dark "It's crazy, Booth, it really is. It was... it is... it's crazy" she leaned as if she was going to tell him a secret. "We had sex. I mean... we had sex, which is crazy because you think that in our line of work one shouldn't get romantically involved with a college, and I think that one shouldn't get involved with co-workers regardless the line of work, unless, of course, both persons can compartmentalize, which I think I can but you can't. You believe in love and love making and I think it's neuro-chemicals playing with our heads. And out of the blue you and I... engage in this frenzy, this thing that was so unlike you that I thought at first that I had dreamt it. But I hadn't and I didn't stop it, neither did you. And you were mad because... you thought I should be offended" She shook her head still smiling "Because you find me attractive? Why would that offend me? I am aware of my appeal, I didn't thought you were, or if you did, that you would actually act on it"

"I am always aware of that" It slip before he could repress it.

Self confident or not, rational or not, every time someone said she was attractive or beautiful she reacted like a twelve years-old, her face reddened and a bashful smile appeared.

Seeing that reaction, Booth added "You know you're beautiful, right?"

No, she didn't. Well, she did in that sort of _I know I'm not a monster_ way insecure women have. He had the feeling he had already felt many times in the past, she honestly didn't think she was beautiful. She had no real notion of herself physically or otherwise. She absolutely ignored who or what she was other than intelligent. She really saw herself as a brain, just a brain. The rest of her, body and soul, not that she believed in the soul, were merely structural support, nothing more than food or air, just a necessity. And, like food, she was going to enjoy it, but never admit that it was important.

"Well, you are" He said in a factual tone.

She blushed again and disregarded it as the well intentioned comment by a friend who cared for her and who believed he had done something horrible.

Booth looked at her. She acted as if nothing had happened. As if they had never had sex and he had never harmed her and he had never looked at her like he had minutes before. She could compartmentalize, alright. And she was so good at it that she even compartmentalized her being. She was a brain, and a body. And one had nothing to do with the other. They were different systems, they worked separately. No overlap there. So aseptic.

Something very small changed inside her. Maybe it was the words, or perhaps the extra something on his eyes, but she had had this distinctive sensation before. It wasn't like all the times he had reacted to her outfits, to the nightgown dress, or the Wonder Woman costume, even the Roxi's dresses. It wasn't like when the clothes were too revealing or when hair, makeup and accessories turned her into the modern version of a princess. It was exactly the same as that one time years ago when he said she was well structured. She wasn't dresses up, had only foundation and very little eyeshadow, her hair was like it is after a long work day and she was eating a doughnut. That's hardy the scenario for romance -not that romance exists-. And he said _you're well structured_. She believed him. She honestly did believe in that second that she was beautiful. And she really, absolutely, totally believed that he was going to kiss her. But he didn't. Steps downstairs, heels clicking actually. And the moment was gone, puffed into a huge ball of awkwardness. Impossible to come back from there, and she was even hurt for a moment. And then the usual, safe flirtation which she could not resist but that meant nothing. She wasn't beautiful after all. But now, right now she thought she might be.

And he looked away. The moment again evaporated into nothingness. Half a smile crept on her face. Of course he'd look away. He always looked away or walked away.

She leaned forward and Booth froze. His guilt and his fear sent him in that attentive yet motionless state animals get when threatened. She grabbed her beer and leaned back again, resting her back on the couch. It would have been so easy to kiss him. It was still so easy to place her feet at each side of him on the coffee table and just let her skirt fall so he could see her again. It would have been too tacky, it would have been wrong, it would have been stupid. It would... She drowned that line of thought with a big gulp of beer.

"I should get going" He said as he stood up quickly and clumsy. He was flushed from the collar of his shirt to his hairline.

She could say something, she could say _aren't you going to finish your beer?_ In stead, she stood up. As he walked to the door and she followed, she wish her skirt had pockets so she'd know what the hell to do with her hands.

Booth turned on his heels and their eyes met. She smiled in anticipation. And he looked away. Brennan smile grew bigger. He was so predictable. Booth snapped his fingers and clapped his hands as he did when he considered a subject or a situation called for a quick dash.

"Kay, so... See you tomorrow, then, Bones?"

"Yeah" She replied, lips slightly curled down as she tried to repress the smile.

He was gone.

She blinked to the door a few times. Things were clear now, to her at least.

-------------

Awfully OOC, I know, I know, I know!!!  
And WTF is wrong with me??? I've never thought I could be this misogynistic but apparently I am. I'll have to take it to therapy.  
Review is always appreciated even if it's "WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU???"

SttB


	2. Chapter 2

Hi. I'm back, apparently. Thanks for the reviews, they make me happy -how original of me, right?  
It took me longer than I thought to get this chap out, but here it is. Hope you like it, if you don't that's fine too.  
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, I'm making no money with this.

------------------------

The following days Booth found himself alternating between calmly accepting that it hadn't been all his fault, that things happen between adults; and hating himself for what he had thought, what he had done and for his weakness lapsing into those moments of self forgiveness. He would stare at Bones for minutes at the time. Sometimes with fascination, as if she exuded magic. In those moments, he could build up the courage to ask her if she was healing OK. Which to an extent was uncomfortable for them both, but somehow the gesture had more meaning because of it. Other times... other times he would look at her, watch her fluent moves as she sat or walked or talked on the phone or typed or basically did anything, including breathing. How could he had called her those names? Why on Earth had he thought of her as a bitch? So, she had sex with guys she didn't love. So does most people. He could have said it wasn't the way God intended it, but that was bull and he knew it. Sure, he preferred sex to be had with people one shared feeling with, but he had been no saint. And yet the cascade of dark feelings and hurtful words towards her had been unstoppable. During those moments he would feel a million needles pricking his stomach.

Brennan noticed his fluctuating state of mind, as did everyone within a 10 miles radius from wherever he was standing. She could understand part of it, the part that had come to her house and quietly asked for forgiveness. She had taken it as a normal event that the guilt remained with him for a few days after that. But time passed and Booth continued in that switching mood, regardless of her efforts to be normal, to go back to their previous dynamic. She bantered and bickered as usual, and thought it seemed to work most of the time, at any given moment she would turn in a middle of a phrase and realize he wasn't listening, he was looking at her, pass her, absentmindedly, his face contorted, frowning at something. Then she would shut up, purse her lips tight and wait for him to come out of this state. All of her new found confidence, all of her certainties were slowly but constantly dripping away.

Friday night two weeks after his visit to her apartment, and Brennan hadn't heard a word from him since Wednesday afternoon when they had closed their last case. It wasn't that she was expecting him to call just to talk, but she had grown fond of the _Good weekend _calls. She would say she was going to work –yes, she was that much fun- , he would childishly announce all the things he would do _there's a game tomorrow, Bones, and who has tickets? Hehehe!_ Or _**I**__ am taking Parker to the __**movies**_ when there was one of those movies for kids he enjoyed more than his son.  
She checked her watch and confirmed that it was actually late. That was the reason for most lights to be off and the building so silent. She had spent the last three hours reviewing limbo cases' reports Wendell had prepared and she had lost track of time. She considered the possibility of staying and finishing the pending reports, but she had that uncomfortable sensation on the pit of her stomach. She thought she might be hungry.

It was unintentional, and she would attribute it to routine if asked. But she was glad when, pushing the door open, she saw him, back slightly hunched, sitting at the bar.  
"Hi" She said in a low, almost confidential tone she sometimes used, leaning a little towards him as she sat on the stool.  
"Hi, Bones" He replied quietly. He didn't look up, he was playing with his bottle and staring at the plastic chip in front of him.  
She got a beer and returned her eyes to Booth. He had only lifted his eyes from the chip to drink. With her mouth shrugged to the left, to Booth, and her gaze flying from him to the chip, back to Booth, back to the chip, she thought she should ask. "Do you have the urge to gamble?"  
He smiled weakly, short direct question, so characteristic of hers "No. I honestly don't. I was just thinking"  
"What about?" Brennan asked in that quick manner that was an attempt to get him to talk before she took a sip from her bottle . She missed it, she missed his heartfelt confessions, the way he didn't look at her when including her in his grieves, as if the simple gesture of listening made things better for him while reassuring her he trusted her.  
Booth missed it too. And he might take her up on that tacit proposal, for he felt the pressure of his secrets starting to brake him. He wouldn't do it here, though, not at the pub where any of their friends could walk in any second, just like she had. "Were you missing me?" He asked in stead, with the obvious intention of shifting the conversation away from his thoughts.  
She hesitated for an instant, unsure of this being the right time to say it, but she had already admitted it, playfully or not, in numerous occasions "No..." She said with the gleam in her eyes that was a convention for _yes, of course, dummy_, so sweet in its rareness that he could have melted right there and that, at the same time, widened the hole in his chest.  
He smiled only for her. Only because it was the least he could do after what he had done, what he could do. A sideways look at her and and he covered his eyes with his right hand, sighing. Calling her a bitch and a whore. He should go to Church, but it wouldn't be enough. A priest would do nothing for him, God had left him alone in the obscureness of his being.  
Brennan had failed to cheer him up. It was not one of her skills, it was his. He had always been able to bring her to smile with a little phrase or an action. Brennan was more the kind of straight forward compassionate person. With him, with others, not so much. "I'm sorry" She said.  
That shocked him and made him feel small, very small. What had she done, other than being light he had decided to dim out? "What? Why?"  
Brennan had not thought it through. But she was sorry, therefore there had to be a reason "You're sad. I am sorry you're sad"  
He put money on the bar without saying a word. He needed air, he felt tied up, he had to get out before he did somethig stupid. Brennan wasn't sure if that was a cue to follow him or to leave him alone. But the bills said he was paying for both beers, so she followed.  
Booth was already walking when she reached the street. Hurrying her steps, she wondered why it was so difficult for her to just wrap her hand around his arm. It would be so easy to let the momentum she had from her little trotting do the work, it could even be perceived not as her intention, but as an aid to keep her balance. And yet, she could not do it. He did it all the time, he acted as if her back and her shoulders were somehow his to guide, to grab, to delicately lead in a non possessive manner. It was, like the glances, the type of thing that made her think that maybe he would kiss her. Curling her mouth downwards a little, she thanked herself for choosing a coat with pockets where she could jam her hands when there was nothing better to do.

They walked in silence, passing by groups of laughing friends, couples with those stupid smiles on their face as if nothing in the world mattered as long as they were together. People being people, happy, living their lives, having all the things he didn't have, he couldn't have. People sharing looks, sharing lives. People that glowed, that had no problems. He knew better, he knew everyone has problems, but they seemed so... fine. Looking at them, Booth's pain was replaced by envy. It crept form a place in the small of his back up to his neck, it felt like fire on his back. They had it and he couldn't. They were happy and he wasn't. They didn't have rage waiting to explode, they didn't have misogynistic thoughts that weren't even his own stored in their brains. They could hold the woman that walked next to them without the fear of harming her. They could go back home and never doubt if their kids would be in danger because of them. Goddamn assholes! They probably did and weren't aware. He wanted to grab them by the shoulders and shake some sense in them. How could they be so sure? He had been just as sure as they were. He had never thought he could have that much anger inside, or that he would let it break loose on Bones. Now, he couldn't know what other darkness he had within that hadn't yet met its switch. Those people, they didn't have to live with calling her a whore. And Bones, walking by his side, just as unaware as the rest of them, ignoring she was wasting her compassion on a monster. Stupid Bones, being uncharacteristically sweet, making everything worse by saying it wasn't his fault, that she didn't mind the scratches. Damn Bones, handing him redemption in the form of an apology! So fucking perfect, so fucking brilliant and rational! Fucking Bones, being so utterly Bones! What the hell was she doing with him? "Damn it, Bones!" He spatted stopping abruptly.  
Brennan had been lost in her own thoughts "What?" She asked almost alarmed.  
"Damn it, Bones! Why you have to be like that?" he said flopping his hand.  
Her eyes were rounded as she looked at him, anger darkened his "What? Be like what?"  
That little question made the pressure grow inside "Like that!" Like that, all perfect, all forgiving, all understanding, all beautiful under the street lights, staring at him without fear as if he was normal "Like that! Fine with everything!"  
"I don't understand" She honestly didn't. She didn't know why he was so upset.  
He took a step towards her and she didn't flinch. Why would she flinch when he tried to be delicate and touch her face but not when he was being an animal? Oh, because she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. The bomb in his chest was begging to go off "You wanna know?"  
"Yes, I want to know why you're being so irrational" She said lifting her chin just a little, this display of whatever it was she did not appreciate.  
"Because I fucked you as if you were worthless!" God, not again, she thought. "And all you have to say is it wasn't my fault? What's wrong with you?" God, not the exact same argument again, she thought. Booth continued as she stared at him in motionless silence "I tore you and it happens? I call you a whore, a bitch that can be fucked by any asshole and you say you choose?" Wait, when had he called her a that? Booth percieverd the reaction, the minimal frowning and he knew he had hit the jackpot. "Yes, all those times I was fucking you like an animal I was thinking the bitch likes it"  
That was insulting. That was unnecessary, that was a chip shot, and even when she knew it, there was a spark inside her, fast pumped blood warmed her arms. Her jaw shifted to the right and she looked down. Brennan was doing everything in her power not to answer, not to indulge him in this idiotic behaviour.  
He saw it, he saw _her _rage being ignited, he knew how it felt, how powerful it was and how good it was to let it out. And he wanted her to let go, to hit him, to brake some of his worthless limbs. Torn between the desire to hurt her, to be hurt by her, to protect her from him, burning inside, wishing she would loath him as much as he did he added "What? Are you gonna tell me that's not my fault either? Are you saying you are a heartless slut?"  
Time froze. She was no longer in the space time continuum. Many things could set her off into a fast, mad, furious discussion. Many things could bring her to the edge of wanting to hit someone. But few, very few things could actually break her.  
Oblivious, he started to walk in circles. Why couldn't she punish him? Why couldn't she just yell at him that he was a rat, that she was not a slut nor a heartless bitch and that he should never again see her for he was not worthy of her? Irritated, hating her for her lack of self preservation instincts, of self respect, he didn't notice her multiple changes. "God!" he said.  
Brennan didn't hear him, staring as she was at nothing, at some point somewhere in front of her, or inside her. She felt stripped out of her flesh, cold and hot at the same time, numbed and electrified. She blinked a couple of times, but it felt as if it took minutes for her eyelids to go down and up again. Her brain was in short-circuit, unable to connect dots, to link ideas. There was only one thing, one word bouncing inside her skull. Just as she had slipped into that state, she snapped out. "You're an..." But her voice didn't rise up. The lump on her throat prevented it. And she was glad.  
There he was, walking, waiting for something, and all she could do was try and keep herself together. Her hands were fisted in her pockets, her arms slightly jerking due to the adrenaline rush, and a mix of things washed her over. She wanted to hit him, to kick in on the shins, to slash his flesh with a knife, to make him pay for this betrayal. He had said he wouldn't betray her, he had said many things, and for some stupid reason she had chosen to believe them, to believe him. Brennan wanted to take the imaginary knife and cut deep into her skin so the sting of exposed flesh would cover everything else.  
Booth finally stopped his aimless walk. His eyes shot fire at her. In hers there was something he could not recognize. For a split second he was almost proud of himself, but he remembered the openness those same eyes gave him, and only him, more often than not. However, he it was right, she should be furious, she should hate him. _He_ was furious out of his brain for everything, for being born and ending up being this jerk, this force of nature that destroyed perfection in every possible manner. And yet he could not stop. "Are you going to say something or what?"  
There was a thunder from her eyes to his. But she knew better than to yell at him, she needed to stay calm. She knew there would be no coming back if she lashed out. No one would be able to convince her to forgive him -or herself- because Booth was the only person that had ever been able to bring her, out of _his_ sheer faith, to risk herself to be hurt or abandoned again. But she had to let him know. "You are an idiot"  
When you shake a bottle of soda and twist the cap open, there's only a very small amount of gas you can let out before the geyser comes out in all its power. Booth had shaken the bottle, but she had been stupid enough to keep the cap loose for longer than safe. Too many syllables, and she was unable to twist it tight again "You are a selfish bastard! Why did you have to tell me that?"  
Booth had antagonistic feelings, he despised himself for throwing this verbal punches at her, but it was for the best, he had to push her away "Because it's the truth! Because that's what I was thinking!" Her eyes, her big blue warm eyes were now cold and locked. So different from the ones that had stared at him when he was examining her. But he needed his punishment and, damn it! so did she for not acknowledging at the propper time that it shouldn't had happened that way "And you seek the truth, so there you have it! All I was thinking when I was doing you was what a whore you are!"  
Why was he telling her these things now?Brennan had learned from him and there was something other than rage, something she had already seen on him. Index pointing at him with the power of a fire gun, she retorted "You, goddamn selfish bastard! _This_" and her right hand made a circular motion between them "This has nothing to do with me! This is you throwing you're guilt at me. This is you cleaning your conscience!"  
"No, you moron!" both of his hands at her face. He knew it was wrong, beyond wrong, such an utter lie. She was right but his brain had checked out and his gut needed to burn in hell "You, stupid! This happened because you take any available dick without even thinking that you came across like the whore you are!"  
Hadn't she said she didn't want to sleep with any other man? Anger filled ammunition fired from her every fiber "You're the moral compass, hypocritical rat? Are you going to tell me that this tantrum of yours is my responsibility? Where was your lovemaking crap when you were _doing_ me? You enjoyed it as much as I did, you're just not man enough to admit it"  
He was possessed by his darkness, he had to show her the monster. "I'm not man enough? Do you want me to fuck you right here to prove you wrong?"  
What the hell did he think he was? Brennan wanted to knock him down from whatever pillar he had put himself up and she would have just loved to do so with a jab, but her lips were faster "Fuck you, Booth! You think you're so special, but guess what? You're just as basic in your desires as the rest of us! You liked feeling powerful, with your fantasy of subduing me. You wanted to fuck me so the world would know what a big alpha male you are! Well, you're not!"  
"I wouldn't say that after those moans of yours!"  
"Check it with your non existent omniscient god! See what he says, that is if he says anything at all!" That was a master strike on her part.  
"Leave God out of this!"  
"You leave your contradictions out, _you_ leave _me_ out! Be rational for once in your life, if we had sex was because you wanted it, if your Catholic guilt got in your way, that's not my problem! What you think or thought is not my problem, it's yours!"  
"It has nothing to do with my religion! I hurt you, you asshole! I tore you and bruised you, I was abusive. And you liked it! Because as long as you come there's nothing else that matters!" This bullshit he was spilling was energy flowing out of body, draining him. There were too many feelings crashing, it was overwhelming and exhausting. Booth fought not to let that show on his face.  
"You liked it too!" Why wasn't he admitting it?! Brennan wanted to punch him, push him, kick him, kick herself, stab both of them. Damn Booth for denying he wanted her, damn her for believing he did, she continued as well as she could "You wanted to have sex with me! Your stupid love couldn't factor in, well, deal with it!" With that, Brennan strode away.

She was right, this craziness had nothing to do with her. From the beginning, it had had nothing to do with her. It didn't matter now that for a few days she had thought some of it was because of her. It simply wasn't. It had never had. Stupid her for believing otherwise, stupid, stupid, stupid! She should punch herself, she thought as her jaw tightened. Irrationality had overtaken her, she had had a period of idiotic thinking and that was unforgivable. She had briefly forgotten how things really were. From now on she needed to bare in mind that feelings do not exist, that no one ever loves anyone else, that people's interest and care for one another are just as fleeting as everything else. No one can be trusted, or one should just accept that trust means nothing and be always ready for the proverbial stab in the back. Because there was always a spike ready to break through the skin, splinter the ribs and get to the internal organs, where it wiggled and waggled until there was nothing but pulp. Burning pulp, that she could have sworn was oozing from her wounded back.  
She could not shake it. She could not brush all those sensations off of her, like mercury poured on silver, they were one with her now. This whole thing was no longer an event in her life, she had the odd feeling that this would, from now on, be a constitutive part of her. That idea infuriated her. How could one event have such an impact? It made no sense, it was not the way things should be. This, like everything else, should not define her. Why would Booth be more important than anyone else? Why would his thoughts be so transcendent? He thought she was a heartless bitch. It certainly wasn't the fist time someone called her heartless, cold, unsympathetic, unattached, insensitive. Neither was it the first time someone referred to her sexual behaviour as that commonly addressed with words such as bitch, whore, slut. Nor was it the first time both concepts had been associated. Damn Booth! Actually, damn her for giving him that much power over her, for making him relevant to the extent of feeling physical pain as a response to mere words. That was the only part of this mess that was her fault. And why had she done that? She was smarter than that. She wasn't the kind of person that falls in love and that fails to see any defect on the other person. Damn! There was not such a thing as love. There could be companionship, friendship, attachment built upon the base of daily interaction. One could grow fond of certain people, feel genuine interest, perhaps even tenderness. But love, the popular notion of love, the love one sees in movies, that did not exist. And damn her once more, thinking about love now! She bit her bottom lip so hard she left teeth marks on it.  
Unwillingly, inevitably, she continued that line of thought. Because she had believed Booth thought she was beautiful. She had believed when he said she was special. She had believed when he said she had more than beauty, she was beauty and brains. And when he told her there was someone special for her. She had also believed he was always aware of her appeal. One should not trust words, words are deceiving.  
But that was nothing compared to the creations of her own mind, with the certainties she had had that hadn't been born from any evidence. Evidence. The magic word that put everything at a safe distance. It was pointless, having established that feelings did not exist, to focus on hers – not that she had any on this matter, she reminded herself as her entire body trembled with fury. She needed to analyze the evidence.  
Not realizing the amazing coincidence between her evidence epiphany and the fact that she had walked back to the Jeffersonian, she entered the building and rushed to her car. The only word that reverberated in her head was EVIDENCE as she drove to her place.

Booth had watched her determined steps as she walked away from him. Bringing both hands to his face, he scrubbed it. She was going, she was gone. He closed his eyes and sighed, it had been exhausting, he didn't have any vital energy left, it had fled away with his words. Had she stayed any longer, had he had to yell again, he would have fallen to the ground. He bent and steadied himself with his hands on his knees. He wasn't nauseous, but he wanted to vomit, to feel the strength of a iron fist around his stomach and the burn of acid up his throat. Had he been the kind of person that screamed out of desperation, he would have. But now that she was gone, that he had hurt her enough to keep her away, he could breath. "I'm not my father, I'm not my father" he said it aloud because he needed to hear it. "I'm not my father". Two blocks he walked repeating it, and five minutes after that until a cab appeared and he signaled the driver to stop.  
The driver, a forty-something quite regular man, had looked at Booth's reflection on the review mirror several times before he decided to ask "Tough night?"  
Booth was still repeating his mantra and the voice took him by surprise, he didn't want to talk but neither was he in shape to be a hard ass. He blinked "Yeah"  
The man smiled sympathetically "She broke your heart?"  
Booth scrubbed his face again "Nah... I... I did the breaking" it was barely a string of voice  
Lifting his eyebrows, the man responded "That's sometimes tougher" but Booth didn't reply. The driver took the hint and the rest of the ride was silent.  
Once Booth arrived to his place, he strolled to his bedroom, undressed leaving his clothes wherever they landed and threw himself on his bed. Within five minutes he was sound asleep.

It was still dark when Booth opened his eyes again. He lifted his head from the pillow before his brain had time to process that there was a noise on the background. What was it? Thump. Thump, thump. Then silence. He closed his eyes. Thump, thump, thump! He opened them again, and a second later Thump, thump!!! Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump!!!  
Booth didn't want to open the door. Maybe she'd go away. Maybe it was all in his imagination and there had been no knock on the... Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump!!!  
As the thumping continued relentlessly, he resigned and walked to the door. He opened it when her knuckles were still machine-gunning the wood.  
Booth backed a little at the sight of her moving fist. Brennan froze it in mid air when she realized there was no door to stop it. Her eyes widened and she looked almost embarrassed "I didn't think you were sleeping" the droopy eyes and the lack of clothing other than briefs had told her that. But then Brennan realized that her phrase could be read as if she expected him to be as restless as she had. "I thought you didn't want to see me" She added quickly.  
No, he did not. He would have rather for her to stay mad and at her place. But here she was standing, awake, obviously strained and without a trace of anger in her expression. There was something in her eyes, thought, but his brain was too fuzzy to decode exactly what it was. He blinked a few times, resting his arm on the door. She stood in silence, ignoring what to do or say. She had expected a _Go away _and was ready to push her way in, but this motionless, drowsy Booth had caught her off guard.  
Booth stared at her wandering why she had come. Should she be here? Should she be so calm? Because she was very calm, very still. Had she changed her clothing? How much time had passed? Slack as he was in the haze of sleep, he realized after some time that he should let her in, she was here and he had no strength to fight her. So, he let the door opened and walked back to his living-room. Brennan followed.

-----------------------

It's still OCC, but this chap is a transitional one. I do have a rational explanation, I just need to type it. If you're interested let me know and I'll post it -once it's written that is.  
We all love reviews, right? I don't particularly like this chap, so I need some cheering. Lame, I know, very lame...

SttB


	3. Chapter 3

Hi, everyone. Thanks for reading and reviewing this story, for the PMs and the alerts.  
Here is the end. I hope you like it.  
And, again, I proof read it so... not much of a warranty there...

Disclaimer: No one left the copyrights of the character on my doorsteps, so, no, still not mine.

****

-----------------------

His heavy steps didn't stop. He kept walking until he disappeared into the bedroom. Brennan's gaze unintentionally lingered on the shadows on his back and she got distracted by the simplicity of certain things. His bare back, for instance. And again, it would be so easy to just walk behind him, sit at the edge of his bed and run her fingers through his hair. So easy.

A few minutes may have passed before she snapped out and realized she was standing alone in the dark. Alone. She was here to talk. –No, to explain. To explain things to Booth. And Booth wasn't here, he was in his bedroom. Had he gone back to bed? He might have. He looked drained. Guilt can do that. Guilt and a discussion can squeeze every little drop of energy you have, Brennan knew from experience. And she had showed up -only then she checked the time- at 4.32 AM. Brennan shook her head. So, she had figured it out. Did she had to come right away? She had gone home, her mind racing, counting facts, words, weighing them. She had changed, drank coffee, tea, she had eaten toasts. She had walked around her apartment non-stop, her muscles twitching and relaxing, her feelings mutating seconds from one to another, until she had it all clear. And she had left without even thinking about the time. Damn.

After glancing around, she spun and started to pad to the front door. But steps sounded behind her. Slowly, she spun again.

In sweat pants and t-shirt, leaning on his bedroom's door frame, Booth looked at her, eyes drowsy still. There was a moment of silence and then "You're leaving?"

It was the first time he spoke since she had arrived and the low, rusty, expressionless voice made her feel a little out of place. "I thought you had gone back to sleep" Brennan replied quietly.

None of them moved as they focused on each other's eyes, out of which they could get nothing, there wasn't enough light. That didn't stop them from trying. It might have been too intense, because Booth turned his head.

Brennan wasn't surprised by that, just a tad annoyed. She brushed her right eyebrow with her fingers out of embarrassment or perhaps to force herself to bring statements out. It was to no avail, the straight line of thought she had drawn in her car was now whisked into a pudding of words. Why? Because he was sleepy, because he had opened the door in briefs? Brennan shifted her mandible and hated herself for her lapse of weakness.

And then there was light. Literal light, a lamp turned on by Booth at the other end of the room that made her squint and lower her gaze. He sat on the couch and followed her movements around the dim room.

Brennan took a step forward, another one backwards, one to her right, then she stopped and looked back at him. The light was bathing the right side of his face and she could see again how extremely tired he was, how unbelievable vulnerable due to exhaustion. So easy...

She shut her eyes. Evidence and explanations, just evidence and explanations "Listen..." she hesitated "Listen..." But that was as far as she came, a hand clinging on her stomach. She tilted her head and their gazes locked for a brief moment.

It shouldn't be this hard, she thought. She should be able to talk. But maybe it was his defenseless expression or the sensation of him wanting her gone. But no, that made no sense, he had left her in. Brennan sighed pressing two fingers to the bridge of her nose, a gesture that seemed to have been stolen from Booth's catalogue. As she reprimanded herself for being lost in a maze of disorganized thoughts, she saw by the corner of her eye how he stood up, walked around the couch and headed to the kitchen.

Alone again and frustrated, Brennan sat and pressed her lips together. She scratched her forehead. This battle inside between reason and emotions, that had been going on for hours now, seemed to have dulled her ability to form phrases. She just had to put it all back together, leaving feelings aside, using only reason. She could do that, she was good at that. But at the moment, she simply couldn't. It was stupid. This wasn't going well.

The smell of coffee pulled her out of that state of self hate and self pity.

"Thanks" She said grabbing the mug he held in front of her face. It was a nice gesture, she thought.

He sat on the other end of the couch and sipped his steamy coffee.

Brennan wrapped the mug with both hands hoping the comfort of its warmth would help her relax and order her ideas. Yes, contradicting moral frames, instincts, alpha male behaviour, all mixed up in one moment, probably the moment right before he pinned her against her desk. She drank half her coffee trying not to focus on the fact that he had, at least in that instant, wanted her. But then, of course, she wasn't _that_ special after all. Why that sting right below her sternum? Her mouth shrugged and, for a little while, she stared a the nothingness in front of her.

Looking at her from his spot in the couch, Booth was a bit puzzled. She had come to his apartment in the middle of the night after a fight that would have kept anyone far away. He narrowed his eyes in an effort to analyze her. Her dubious moves, her lack of words, the vibrating eyes. He blinked, considered the possibility of saying something, of ushering into speech, but he wasn't sure he wanted to hear her, nor of being awake enough to understand whatever she had to say.

So Booth directed his eyes elsewhere and just drank his coffee, sip by sip until he finished it.

He was so calm, she thought after stealing a glance. Too calm, as if he had said nothing wrong, as if all the words he had splashed over her meant nothing... or were true. In a split second her face transformed. She was here to _explain_? To offer a redeemer rational explanation? Was she stupid? Her clean and detached theory flew out of her head and her lips started to move before she knew what was coming out of them.

"You had not right to tell me those things. I didn't need to know them" It was an instantaneous emotional flashback to the middle of street and she was suddenly standing and speaking rapidly "I... I don't exist so you can throw whatever you think at me!"

Booth nodded and said "You do need to know. I had to..."

"No! I was perfectly fine with everything!" She was quickly reaching her boiling point.

Damn, how could she...? "You shouldn't have! You should have slapped me in the face the fist time I approached you! You should..."

"Damn it Booth! This was not my fault! I should have done nothing different!" Damn, she hadn't come to defend herself.

He jumped up, also transported in a flash to their previous fight. Yes, she should have! She should have been less nice, she should have kicked his ass and... "You shouldn't have let it happen! You should not have let me be this..."

"This what? Be this what?" This asshole that had her confused? Whose changing emotions left her lost?

"This piece of shit!" He yelled. This piece of shit that was no longer sure of his own identity, that dreaded his every emotion because of what he might do about them "This piece of shit that..." hated her so much for not stopping him before he became a fucking monster.

"This piece of shit that what?!" Brennan's eyes sparkled with fury, they had had sex and he was suddenly a piece of shit? And on top of it it was her fault?

Booth's jaw was clenched in an effort to keep his mouth shut. His eyes were fixed on her as an alert or maybe a threat. But Brennan was not backing off.

"Tell me! Tell me what's so awful!!!" She was almost in his face and she could see his muscles tense a little bit more with each word she spoke. "You don't fit your irrational, unrealistic idea of a perfect gentleman, so what?!!!" She shouted the last part.

"So what?!!!" He couldn't restrain himself "So what?!!!" Why coudn't she just understand? Damn it!

Brennan wanted to kick his ass for so many reasons that she had to force herself no to move at all "So what!!! What does that change?!!! How does that make things different?!!! We had sex!!! I'm still me and you're still you!!!"

"You think you know who I am??? You think you understand???" Damn it, don't let me do it, he thought.

"Of course I do!!!" She certainly did. If she didn't know him, then...

"YOU DON'T!!!" And all hell broke loose, "You don't! You didn't even knew know I was calling you a bitch in my head! You didn't have a clue I liked pulling you hair and I wanted to mark you!" With his fore and middle fingers moving back and forth pointing alternatively to his right temple and her face, Booth couldn't stop the stream of words "I hated your guts every time you glowed as you came! I wanted to leave you powerless, to fuck you like you had never been fucked!!!"

A thousand fists were hitting her stomach but Booth continued "You don't know if I'm gonna break your skull or push you to that wall and fuck you again!!! You don't know if I'll wake up tomorrow and hate you!" as he did at that precise moment "Or lose everything in a poker game!! Or hit Parker because I feel like it!!! Or bit the crap out of you if you look at some guy?!"

In a flicker she picked up the meaning, all the implications, all the crap that sent her back to her previous unbased believes. In the spark of that instant she hated him more than she thought she could. She wanted to shut him with her fist, to elbow his ribs so he had no more air to rant on stupid things.

Booth was so embedded in his sprawl of contained anguish that he didn't even realized what he had said "You don't know me!!! You don't know how many people I have killed, or how many people died because of me!!! You don't know if I will torture the next suspect because I can, because I take advantage of my position and do whatever I want, or if I'll drink until I pass out and don't remember what the hell I've done!!! And it is your fault!!! You should have stopped me!!!"

"Have you lost your mind?" Brennan squirmed, taken aback. Everything he had just said was impossible.

"Are you stupid??? Didn't you hear me??? Why don't you get the fuck out of here???" Booth wanted to lift her and throw her out. He wanted to knock her unconscious so she would stop looking at him, at this fucking violent piece of shit he was. "GO AWAY!"

He shouldn't have shouted at her because now she couldn't tell him he was wrong and that nothing in his life was going to change, all she could do was defy him "Why, because you're yelling at me? Because you're a big though guy that could hurt me?!"

Booth eyes were on fire as he spoke "YES! Because I have, and I can, and you don't have a fucking reason to think I won't!" Fuck! "I am evil!" He shouted to her face. Couldn't she see? "I'm evil!!! I am a violent misogynist sonovabitch! I'm a danger to you, to society, to my son, to everyone that comes in contact with me" just like my father, he added in his mind "So get the hell out of here!"

Her face shrugged. _Evil?_ She was too enraged to remind him he was the closest thing to perfection she had ever met. In stead she took her stand and shouted "I'm not going anywhere! Certainly not because you say so! Who the hell do you think you are??"

"Who the hell do _you_ think _you_ are, Wonder Woman? I could crack your fucking" _and oh so beautiful_"skull!!! You think you know me?" And to prove her wrong, to actually show her the kind of mother fucker he was, he grabbed her by the arms and pushed her backwards. He hated her for staying, for coming, for arguing, and in the nothing of time that took him to haul her, his feet and knees bumped and tangled with hers.

It felt like an earthquake, so unexpected that Brennan would have fallen if not for the tight grip he had on her. As she was moved back, she didn't know if he was going to slam her and slap her until she left or if he was going to take her as he had menaced. In a second he had dragged her several feet back and before she could react she was flat against the wall.

His eyes were dark, oozing hate, fear, gilt, anguish and violence, fixed right on hers, and yet she wasn't afraid. She was shocked, she was breathing rapidly, but she wasn't fighting. Brennan could see right through his darkness and into him. She understood it, all of if, from the first thrust to this very moment. She knew why things had been that way, why he had shouted and blamed her and was now immobilizing her against the wall.

He was an inch away, he had pushed her and was being a freaking monster and her response seemed to be the same as in her office and God damn it! He looked away and in a fast and harsh movement lowered his hands to her waist and his knee pressed hers to open them, so she would understand that he would do it, he would take her even after all the times he had said he was sorry, even if he wanted her but not this way, even if it would destroy them both.

Squirming in his hands, she shouted "Look at me! Look. At. Me!" He didn't. With a quick lock Brennan twisted both of his wrists stilling them and jerked his leg away. His neck lashed towards her.

She stared at him withholding nothing, hoping that he would know just by looking at her "Don't do this. I won't hate you, but you will" She said in a low, confident voice.

And she was right, Booth knew it was true. He would. He already did, ever since he had pinned her to her desk, he had loathed himself and wished she would kill him, actually end his life.

Brennan held him close, and the action forced Booth to try another threatening stare. She wasn't looking away and her eyes showed no anger, nor fear. They showed determination, she was putting an end to his mess, be cause it was _his_ mess, either rationally or not.

Still, and out of the sheer need to make her leave, he huffed a lied hateful puff of air as if to tell her that he did wanted to fuck the strength out of her until she was nothing; he tried to jerk himself away.

She held her grip, made him stare back at her. Her frown was lifted in that way that was more a beg than anything else, and her words came out through clenched teeth. "You're not like this" and she would stay here and repeat it all night if that was what it took.

He stared at her, another attempt of menace in his eyes that she read exactly for what it was, his last chance to fight her away.

"This isn't you" Her voice now somewhere between a plea and an utter confirmation. For a second, she thought he would collapse against her and let go of everything.

But he was either too strong or too stubborn, because his face turned into a rock, torn between himself and that other self, the beast. He tried his best to cover it, to let the beast take over his face. All he wanted was her gone, Bones gone, at a safe distance forever. And he had tried, he had yelled, he had fought, he had battered her, he had done everything he could think of.

"This isn't you" Brennan pierced his eyes. He got her meaning, and wanted to be crucified and left to die in the middle of the desert so there wouldn't be any more feelings, just the real pain of nails through his wrists and the burning sun on his skin. In less than a flash his eyes changed.

"This is you " She could recognize it anywhere.

Her heart shrugged at the sight of his confusion. Because, yes, she had detested him, she had wished him pain and suffer for every one of his words. But _this_was Booth. This man standing in front of her, undone and broken, was Booth. And this Booth, the real one, was looking at her now, waiting for her help, for her to drag him out of his well even when he did not deserve it. This Booth shattered her heart with his confusion, and took almost all of her logic away. This Booth made her stomach flip, her body tremble and made her feel surrounded by a mist of soft warmth. _This_ was Booth. The one she knew, the one that had been lost tonight in a haze of self doubt. And this Booth she kissed. A little chaste kiss of welcome or thank you. This Booth that had called her a whore in his mind, that had heard her but not listened to her when she explained why she hadn't stopped him, unlike she had the other Booth just now, this Booth didn't push her at the soft contact. He didn't react in any way.

They stood very still, so still that time could have either speed up or slow down and none of them would have noticed. Brennan thought, tried to find the words, but there wasn't much she could articulate. She simply wanted him to stop suffering and dragging her along.

Her grip loosened and her hands trailed up his arms. In that spot that light barely reached, she kissed him again. "This is you" And that was also her.

Undone, unable to do anything, he let her kiss him both times. Unable to speak, to tell her once again that she should leave before he broke her, Booth just listened.

"You're mad because... it happened that way" and suddenly in her voice _it_ seemed to sound different. The back of her hand was now going up his neck slowly, softly; and when it reached his chin, her thumb brushed the hem of his lower lip.

"It couldn't have happened any other way" Another nothing of a kiss that felt like electricity and he wanted to believe her. He wanted her to _know_, to be _right_.

"You cloudn't have done anything different" Booth somehow knew it was true. Or at least that she thought so.

"You're mad because you think it meant nothing, but it did" She heard a deep and sharp in-take of air.

Even though she had reasons, logical reasons for what she was saying, they weren't coming out orderly. She didn't really care, ideas so confusing and clear in that precise instant. She leaned her forehead against his nose and closed her eyes to herself, he couldn't see it and it didn't matter because she was still explaining.

"I'm not your property, but I am you flock, your herd" She tilted her head and slid the length of her nose against his. Then she kissed him again, one hand on the back of his neck, the other down his chest.

She suspected he had to be breaking inside, because he tried to stop her wandering hand. Brennan caught it and intertwined her fingers with his. When he responded she felt relief. He was starting to get it, to really understand or at least making an effort to see if any of it made sense.

"You claimed me yours, you did it my way... you did it anthropologically in your own irrational way" She took the smallest of steps forward, their faces still in contact, the locked hands a bit tighter. His eyelids caressed her forehead as he blinked and the tip of his nose pressed almost imperceptibly to hers. Brennan drew air in response but tried not to move, she wasn't done.

"You had to call me those names" she knew she couldn't use the actual words "to do it, even if you rather a kiss" and she kissed him again, her barely parted lips pulling his in just a millimeter before she let go. The hand that was now traveling from his chest to his side was caught by Booth's and this time he knotted her fingers.

Booth understood it. All of her explanations and shouts fastening together in his head as he got that the only way he had had to approach her was to convince himself that she was a slut, to ravish her and hate her as he had, because he had lacked the courage or the confidence to simply lean in during any of their locked stares.

"I would have let you do it your way, but you didn't know, you couldn't have" She could feel his breathing changing, though she was uncertain of it being good or bad. She licked her lips and tilted her head up, again brushing him in that motion, so she could look into his eyes.

"You did it that way because it was me" and that tiny _me _convinced Booth that she was right, even if he still hated himself and thought she shouldn't be kissing him, had her been any other woman, he wouldn't have feared the rejection to a gentleman like invitation.

Unlike before, the stared they shared was not that of hate, but was equally powerful "I know I'm not worthless. And that's why you did it that way" She leaned her head to kiss him one more time, and they were both cracking their lips open to capture the other's briefly. Their fronts were now pressed together, though the hands remained clasped at the sides. She pulled her lips away but kept her forehead glued to his, both kept their eyes closed.

"This thing you think you are... you're not" She pulled his hands down to stress it, to convey in those words all the things that filled her chest. "It won't spread into your life because you don't need it in any other aspect of your life" And he believed her again. He was assertive in every single part of his life that wasn't Bones. Bones was the one thing he had never completely figured out, so brilliant, so honest even when she lied little lies to tell everyone that it didn't bothered her she was not in a family or that her dad was a murderer.

"It happened because it was _me_ and it was _you_" And it that simple phrase he understood that she meant their views were so different that inevitably one of them was going to chose the other's path. It had been him, but it could have been her just as well, and it didn't change who their were. She had been right all along. She felt more than saw his realization, and her mouth moved forward again, an opened mouth kiss that didn't go into french.

Only then she dared to take her hands away from his and place one on the back of his head, the other over his shoulder. Unexpectedly, or maybe not, she felt his hand on her ribs. Booth did it because he knew in his gut that it was ok, otherwise he wouldn't be feeling so warm and full of cotton inside, he wouldn't be feeling he was melting into her. Her fingers drew circles on his skull.

"You believe it's love, I believe it's chemistry, doens't mean they're not the same" His nose caressed hers in short light up and down strokes, he didn't care if they used different names, all that matter was that she was still here, still talking to him, taking the most complicated situation in the word and simplifying it for him. Because she knew he wasn't worthless either, he wasn't just another man that did her, he was worth the pain, the stupidity, the mess. He, and only he, could _have_ her, she was allowing him to have all of her.

In the fuzz that this real Booth brought to her, she continued "You believe it's forever, I don't..." And she kissed him again, deeply, reaching the point of passion but not crossing it. His hands tightened a bit on her sides, perhaps because of the kiss, perhaps because he feared her coming words.

"But I never set a limit..." And her hand sneaked under his arm onto his back, allowing him to slid his until she was wrapped in his arms. Booth pressed her a little bit closer as she pulled his head down and tilted hers to the right for a more charged kiss, still no tongue because she hadn't finished.

"If we're lucky, we'll have a few month" They didn't want that, and the touch of their tongues revealed it.

"If we're really lucky, we'll have a few years" Still not what they wanted, and another kiss to confirm it, while their breaths sharpened.

Completely lightheaded, she kept her line of thought and he was amazed by that. "And if we are really, really lucky, we'll grow old and die before our neuro-chemicals go back to their normal levels"

Big, strong, firm hand cupping her head, he pulled her in to catch her beautiful lips for saying that. For saying the she believed, in her own twisted manner, that love and forever did exist and for assuring him with their response that she truly wanted her kind of forever for them.

Impossible as it was, she leaned a little bit more against him and the back of her hands left a path on their way to the hem of his shirt. Booth felt her fingertips tracing the same path up against his skin, yes, Brennan was finally touching his skin like they both had wanted for almost a month now. He simply lifted his arms and reluctantly abandoned her lips. While his shirt was till covering his face Brennan planted a kiss on his collarbone and the air that left her mouth reached his neck.

"It wasn't meaningless" He heard and the shirt was already somewhere nearby. He clasped her, and felt her lips sliding along his neck and her breasts flattened over his chest.

"And this is your way so you understand that it doesn't matter how it happens, it matters that it does" she said before her lips went to his other shoulder so she could kiss him there. As if in sync, he bowed his head to slightly suck the soft skin of her neck, and he remembered thinking it was made for featherlight kisses out of which he made a line up to the spot behind her ear.

"I do know now" Booth whispered and to Brennan that was heaven, or what people said heaven was.

The trail his lips made, under her jaw to her chin, gave her not other option than to let her head fall back. She didn't even mind that while her hands tightened on whatever part of his body they were with every kiss he placed up and down her neck, his fingers limited to brush the profile of her breasts applying little to none pressure when he touched her hardened nipples. Soft, low pitched whimpers came out of her opened mouth and her hips started, without any indication from her, sideways motions.

But it was his way, so she still them, even when there was now a new pressure coming from his groin. As well as she could and not without resistance on his part, she pushed him away just enough so he would look at her. The awful cloud that had covered his eyes for the past weeks was now gone, replaced by a darkness and a clarity that she had never seen before. Not in him, not in anyone. But what she wanted was for Booth to understand that it was her decision to go this way now, she would lead as he had led before.

Almost as if they were inexperienced kids, as if they had never been in this situation before, she looked down, lips pursed to the side, and let her hand slide from his arm to his hand. It took her an instant to start moving, tugging him behind her on the way to his bedroom. Booth smiled, his chest exploiting, at the sight of her bashfully bowed head.

The realization that they were going to have sex knowing both of them why drove her to turn around and drag him the rest of the way locking lips and pulling his hips to hers, which was stupid because she wasn't familiar with his bedroom and she could have stumbled into anything. But Booth directed her to the unmade bed, where he leaned her and laid on top of her.

They both groaned at the full contact, Booth weight not quite crushing her but offering the perfect amount of pressure. Her back arched to feel her breasts brushing his wonderful chest and her stomach flat against his. Booth looked at her as he shifted and rotated his hips to separate her thighs. After a night of pure torture, she was still beautiful in the faint glow of the dawn that leaked in, the blue of her eyes brighter than he could ever remember. Through his sweat pants and her jeans the friction was clumsy and insufficient, and she clung to his shoulders to lift her hips and try to get a better feel of his erection. Brennan smiled as he kissed her and throbbed unsuccessfully on her. Her feet flew up and she kicked her flat shoes away.

Their speed had increased, she didn't care anymore who did what, she wasn't even sure any of them was leading. Weight on his elbows, Booth followed the V neck of her top alternating soft and passionated kisses. Brennan fought both his pants and briefs, ending the job with her bare feet and they gasped at the first contact of her feet to his legs.

Her hands busied on her own garments and undid the buttons of her jeans. Booth slid down until his feet reached the floor and, knees resting on the edge of the bed, helped her take the pants off. He plunged to get her panties off as well and it was only when they were on the floor that he realized he was once again in front of her spread legs. Hard as he was, crazy for her as he was, he pushed her knees together.

Brennan knew exactly what he was thinking, how that view took him back to that night and she saw the same plea in his eyes. There was a moment of pure quietness, both looking at each other with dense eyes, even when he could not tell what she was thinking.

"Can I see?" A thread of voice reached her ears.

To his waiting stare, she blinked as if the answer was obvious. "Of course you can"

When she opened her legs and he leaned, focused, serious, so caring, she was also transported to that night and the same feeling overwhelmed her, no one had ever in her life looked at her like that. The back of his fingers drew the same pattern, the touch she had memorized in spite of herself. There were no bruises, no scratches, no tares, just her perfect skin and her perfect labia and her perfect everything, but the image was burnt into his brain and this time he kissed and licked every one of her now gone injuries. She tried to look at him, but her eyes shut with every single contact and soon the touch of his lips on her clit had her groaning.

Booth wanted to hear that sound forever, so he continued planting his healing kisses and strokes. They healed him more than they did her. And her wetness tasted just as he remembered. Just as perfect as the rest of her. But that also sent him to a moment he didn't want to revisit and though he didn't stop she knew.

"Booth" She called, her eyelids blinking lazily when he looked up.

He continued to caress the sides of her entrance delicately, as if he feared to brake her. Wanting with her entire being that he wouldn't doubted her, she placed her feet on his back.

"I told you, _that_ is a part of _this_" Brennan's relaxed face and warm curled lips were all he needed to be convinced she was right and even more so, she was a much wiser soul than she let people know and she believed herself.

And how not to kiss her? How not to plant a sucking kiss on her navel before going all the way up to dive his tongue in her open mouth and twirl it with hers? How to resist it when she was wrapping her limbs around him, bringing him closer?

Booth lift her and moved to the center of the bed. And God, his completely hard cock in contact with her inner thighs again, after days of missing it. He helped her out of her top, pulled he up to unclasp her bra, all the time hearing her gasps. And when she leaned on her back again they could see each other, not just patches, not just one or the other, both of them. All of him was handsome, everything, from the tip of his toes to the ends of his hairs, he was handsome. All of her was beautiful, every square inch of her skin was perfect. Not a second after that, she sent her hand in the little space that separated their bellies and enveloped his hard cock in her delicate fingers. His groan was mixed with her "God!" and their heads flew backwards as if choreographed. Brennan had wanted to do this, this exact thing, since she had felt him behind her. She caressed more than tugged his gorgeous to the touch erection and placed it right on place.

But her eyes were closed and he remained motionless if not for the thumb that was circling her left nipple. She shut her eyes harder, aware of everything.

"Bones" Other than the ones involved in breathing, her muscles were frozen.

He wasn't really shocked by that, in fact he was a little amused. So perfect together, he thought, that she showed insecurity when he was utterly convinced that everything was right. Since she had told him repeatedly ten days ago and just now that she did wanted him being gentle he would do exactly that. And gentle and caring meant not only slow and delicately, it meant totally together, bodies and eyes and the souls she didn't believe existed.

Booth lowered his head and closed a kiss on the same nipple he was stroking. He came back up, leveled his face with her and called again "Bones, open you eyes"

She obeyed reluctantly, and found his lips once again on hers. "Look at me now" He whispered. She smiled because he had just said the perfect thing. He didn't want to see her melt, he wanted her to see him pour love all over her.

He did exactly that, carefully, gently slipping inside her. As she tried and pulled as much of him inside and against her, the same sound that the first night had escaped her reverberated in the room. He thrusted harder and deeper because she was so unbelievably right. It didn't matter a fuck how, it matter that it happened, that it was happening and that they were making it happen. She could call it whatever she wanted, and he would call it whatever he wanted, the name meant nothing. The only important thing was that they were a single mess of lips, limbs, hands, half way met throbs, words and moans. That they rolled and rocked in tandem, in a rhythm that was theirs alone.

Before they knew, they were clenching and panting. They collapsed, sweated, completely damped, wasted. And more fulfilled than ever in their lives. She dragged him into a kiss that sent him to Jupiter before they were even breathing normally. Booth knew, or wanted to believe, it didn't quite matter, that no other man had ever or will ever experience what he just had. Beauty and sweetness mixed together in that brilliant woman that was on top of him.

After reluctantly moving to lay properly on the bed, head on pillows and under covers so they wouldn't catch pneumonia, he carefully cleaned her with tissue before he cleaned himself.

When he laid back she was staring at him with that smirk that was a mix of being proud of him and totally charmed by him. And Booth was so much himself again, with the contented smile he wore after cracking a case or winning a banter. She rubbed his chest for no other reason than being able to. He directed a broad smile at her and caught her hand to haul her closer. They settled in what might be the most uncomfortable position, her left half on top of him, arm and leg crossing over him, her right side against his side, his left arm somewhere beneath her, but his hand on the small of her back. One would say she was more tossed than spooned. Her face was leveled with his and she could see how he was drifting into sleep under the now bright sunlight.

Brennan closed her eyes too and let out a deep breath. Her mind, however, didn't drift into sleep but in a looped repetition of everything, from a month back until that precise moment. Every conversation, every piece of fight, every word and feeling. There were only two contradicting things that suddenly made her a little uncomfortable.

"Are you?" The question out of context, having been pulled out of her inner monologue.

"Hm..." He opened his eyes and turned his head to face her. She was serious, deadly serious, but not freaking out, which had been his main fear. "Am I what?"

"Are you always aware of my appeal?" There wasn't a thread of insecurity on her features, she just needed to know if she was heartless or truly beautiful, which crazy at it may sound, she knew that those concepts were incompatibles. One could either be one or the other.

He didn't try to charm her, he didn't smile, he didn't caressed or kissed her, he didn't need to exaggerate the truth "Even when you're not around" And he closed his eyes again.

She pressed herself a bit tighter, she believed him. She was one hundred percent convinced that he did. He did thought she was beautiful, and he had wanted to kiss her all those times because she wasn't heartless. And for that she kissed his shoulder. And pressed her self again. And again, her legs a little more open. A slow rotation and soft thrusting of her hips began unintended. His hip bone felt so perfect there, crest right on her clit if she moved a little upwards and to her left. And he smelled so deliciously manly Booth, all sweat and sex, he felt so warm and with every breath he took his lifting and falling chest massaged her breasts so tenderly that Brennan couldn't help it. Neither she wanted to. She kissed his shoulder again because it required less movement than kissing his lips, while her right hand traveled down to circle his nipple like he had circled her.

Booth did nothing, so she just continued, pleased that it was ok to do this, to rub herself on him, let her hand move over him, kiss him wherever her lips landed for no other reason than the certainty of being special to him. Her core began to leak heat, and she made sure it smeared on his side. Her leg locked his hips so he wouldn't move away on his sleep. A groan began and died on her throat she she wouldn't wake him.

However none of this had gone unnoticed to Booth, from her hand to her breasts, from her leg to the liquid pouring on his hip –which was her way to mark him, to claim him hers, he realized with an inner smile-, but mostly due to her rocking hips, her clit on his skin and the muffled puffs of air that brushed his neck, he felt it all. It wasn't longer before she felt his cock rising up touching her thigh, harder with each of her moves. She moaned and brought her hand to it, clasping it between her thigh and her hand, allowing the rocking of her hips to add or diminish the pressure. She played with its tip, twirling her fingers on it, massaging it with her opened palm, while her lips and tongue made out with his shoulder. Booth closed his hand around the back of her knee and lifted her leg just a little to then let his hand go up her thigh, find her hand and join her motions.

It wasn't enough. It just wan't enough for her, to limit him to that poor joke of a touch, and her fingers curled around him and the firmer, faster pumping sped her hips too. Brennan was panting already when Booth started to shift his hips, throbbing, fucking her hand and even when it felt great, that position wasn't quite satisfying. He had zero access to other parts of her.

He turned and faced her, Brennan was frustrated at first, until he plunged inside and everything fell into place again. The calm tenderness locking their gazes all the time, the only exception when they kissed. She caressed his stomach, his head, his butt. He did as well, and sucked her breast, teased her nipples with his tongue and teeth. She kissed his arms, his lips, his neck, she massaged him all over and the whimpers and cries were as low and slow as their movements. Even when it felt that orgasm was not a goal this time, when they were so lazy and so tired that neither believed they could reach it, it was amazing. Mind blowing how they stopped and started again, how their eyes closed and opened as their exhausted bodies and minds floated between sleep and hazed alertness, how muttered things fell from their lips, and it didn't even matter who said what.

They didn't know when they fell asleep. They didn't even parted when they drifted out. But for the first time in a month, they truly rested on their sleep.

-----------------------

That's all. That's what happens when there's a blackout and you find yourself with a notepad and pen, lit by candles and with a fanfic you have to finish but hadn't been able to quite like the three versions you already have typed on your computer.

I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know either way, it makes me happy.

And if you had reached this last line, from the bottom of my heart, thanks a million.

SttB


End file.
